Time in and Out of Hell
by SoulofChibs
Summary: Dean is back from hell, but he has brought back a piece of it with him.  His true feelings for his brother.  WINCEST. Set at the beginning of Season 4. First chapter says I don't mention Ruby, but I had to for the storys sake!
1. Chapter 1

TIME IN HELL -Chapter 1

Said I wouldn't write another one, but I am a big liar. I don't own the characters, just the situations I thrown them carelessly into.

This is actually set at the beginning of Season 4, when Dean returns from hell. Ruby is not going to be part of this story, because when I write the Winchesters, I refuse to have them cheating on one another in any way…I have issues, I am aware.

Its Wincest, Baby

DEAN

Dean Winchester has a secret that niggles at his skull, scratching at him from the inside out, willing itself to break free. Dean rubs his own scalp a lot, hoping it will somehow ease the constant buzzing sound from his secret, but he knows it won't work.

Dean lies to pretty much everyone, always has, and he often tries to lie to himself. Don't get him wrong, he knows that's stupid, but when you are a Winchester, your life is a gigantic cosmic fucking joke, and so lying to your own head kind of makes sense in a strange way. He knows the lie he is chanting in his brain is one that is keeping him sane, well on the edges of sanity, like a man falling off the edge of a building, toes scraping helplessly against concrete, while your fingers cramp in the ultimate pain of just HOLDING ON.

So, Dean sits beside Bobby as they fly down the highway towards Sam's location, and he thumps his fingers against his own thigh mindlessly, in time to the chant that has taken over his cognizance. NOT TRUE NOT TRUE NOT TRUE, and it beats like a drum in time to his own heartbeat, and Dean is desperately trying to will this thought into reality. He tries to just HOLD ON.

It isn't working.

(break)

Sam flings open the motel room door, and Dean sees him for the first time in four months or forty years, depending on whose view you are looking through. Sam spots Dean instantly, their eyes burning into one another's and Dean registers that Sam's face is a mask of pain, confusion, fear and relief, all jumbled together in one expression like he is a Picasso painting.

Sam does what Dean expects him to do. He jumps him and tries to kill him, and Dean is so weak, he almost lets him. That is what self loathing and self disgust get you, he thinks blindly, trying to steady himself. Bobby is there to hold Sam back, shouting at Sam that its actually Dean.

Sam's face crumples into an expression of relief and love that is so profound, Dean is dizzy from it, and when Sam pulls Dean into a tight embrace, Dean can do nothing but HOLD ON for dear life, despite his every impulse telling him to let go, with NOT TRUE NOT TRUE NOT TRUE fading so fast from his head that is might disappear completely if Dean doesn't get out of the embrace. He pushes back against Sam, holding his little brother at arms length and even though the pit of his stomach has fallen out, and even though his chanting lie has faded for the second, Dean looks at his brother, and just feels relieved for a moment that they are together again.

Dean has just returned from hell. Only he is aware that hell followed him back. Because what happened to him in hell has changed him in such a profound, elemental way, despite his self lying, Dean is crushingly aware of the reason hell has followed him back. In hell, he saw the truth. A truth he never would have admitted to or acted on. That's what hell does. It breaks you. That's the whole point of it.

(break)

Dean vaguely remembers the screaming, horrific, pain of the hell hounds claws and fangs on his body, until everything went black.

He woke up tied to a rack, in what can only be described as the most cliché version of hell ever. Fire dancing on the walls, the pungent smell of brimstone filling his nostrils, moans of pain and agony from every direction, and despite the fact that Dean is tied to a fucking rack in hell, he manages to think in his head sarcastically, _Seriously? This is what they came up with?_

The first few days of hell are the getting to know you phase. The demon in charge of Dean, Alistair brings a new meaning of pain into Dean's existence. The guy looks like your dentist, or your postmaster, or maybe a motel clerk, but he is a perfectly evil, torture tool.

So Dean's first ten years in hell are spent tied to the rack, while Alistair filets him over and over again, piece by piece. Dean's screams so many times, his screams lose all meaning, and he discovers a new appreciation for the meaning of pain. Because the pain in hell has so many layers, each one fresher and sharper than the last, and Dean's mind is trying to name them, but realizes it's no use. There are no descriptive words in his mind that can really explain the pain that he is in.

Every night, before he leaves him to heal in the dark, Alistair asks Dean a question. And no matter how much pain he is in, how much he has suffered, Dean always says no. That no at the end of his tortured filled day is the one thing that Dean can hold on to.

(break)

The worst thing about hell, besides the fact it is hell, is that the demons there can read your mind. Dean doesn't know this at first, because Alistair is a sneaky bastard who doesn't ever let on he knows what is going on inside of Deans head. So, Dean retreats inside in his own head, away from the torture and agonizing pain as much as possible, reaching into his own brain for memories that will keep him going.

Like the first time he ever drove the Impala, the sleek black beauty of the car under his fingertips, as he jerked the gas too hard and his Dad cuffed him upside the head.

Or the time when he was twelve and he and Becky Jane Frinkle had gone into the coat closet during 7 minutes in heaven and she had touched him _there_.

The first time he ever killed a monster, and the rush of adrenaline that followed directly after, his Dad clamping him on the back hard, his own chest puffed out in pride at Dean's actions.

Most of Dean's memories are of Sam. Its to be expected, they do spend almost every waking second together. Most of the sleeping ones too.

Sam, chubby cheeked and hazel eyes, dark curls on his forehead, two years old and playing with mud in the front of Bobby's house.

Sam, 8 years old, sprawled on a threadbare sofa, leafing through a comic book, while his foot bobs aimlessly to the music Dean has cranked up.

Sam, 14 years old, all hands and feet, laughing hysterically because Dean is on top of him tickling the shit out of him.

Sam, 15 years old, shoving his whole hand into the peanut butter jar and smearing it on Dean's jacket, because Dean stole $10 from him and spent it on beer.

Sam 18 years old, determination staining his still little boy features as he walks out the door, headed for a new life at Stanford.

Sam's surprised face when Dean shows up to get him at Stanford.

Millions of memories of Sam that Dean has trapped inside his head, and with little to do but be in agony, Dean watches them all over again, like the Sam Channel is on in his brain all day and all night in hell.

(break)

Ten years of torture and every night Dean has told Alistair no when he asks the same question at the end of the torture day.

But Alistair is crafty, and he changes tactics. Even when he does, Dean still doesn't fully realize that it means Alistair is reading his mind, no, that will come later.

Alistair arrives for work like its any other day, but instead of going to town on Dean with all his neat instruments he flicks the rack upright for the first time. Dean gulps because he has no idea why things are changing, but he is innately afraid of the change. He should be.

The walls suddenly morph, no longer on fire and the hard rocky floor changes into a regular floor, the moans fade into the distance, and all the while, Dean is terrified, because he doesn't know what's coming, but this is hell, and it won't be good. That much he _does_ know.

Dean's eyes adjust to the new surroundings, and he sees his father standing in front of him, and his heart jumps for a moment, because it has been so long since he laid eyes on the old man. The second he feels a nanosecond of joy, the scene changes. John Winchester is tied to a chair, and now Alistair is working on him, and John is screaming for Dean to help him, begging in broken sobs, and Dean can't turn away, and the helpless horror in his heart is dragging him so far down, he can't breathe anymore.

Even after watching his beloved father be tortured six ways from Sunday all day long, being forced to watch Alistair slice and dice him, Dean's answer is still no, when Alistair asks him. It's a weaker no, but its still no.

So, for years, Dean endures the pain of watching his father be tortured and slowly die in front of his eyes, and he still says no every night.

He feels some pride in that, despite Alistair's best attempts, Dean is holding. Dean doesn't know it, but Alistair is just getting started.

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

TIME – Chapter 2

I don't own the characters

It's Wincest, Baby

Dean has watched his father being tortured so many times, he has lost count. The horror of it never goes away, but it dulls with each passing year. His no at the end of the day becomes stronger and stronger again, as his mind wraps around that it isn't really John strapped to that chair, it's a facsimile of his father that Alistair has conjured as a way to test Dean. Dean doesn't realize it, but he has passed the test.

So Alistair moves on to the next test.

Dean feels the rack shift and steels his mind to watch another horror torture show starring his father, but is jolted by the clawing fear in his mind when he sees the latest victim in the chair.

Because it's not John anymore. Now it's Sam tied to the chair. Dean's whole being is shaken, his instincts to protect Sam are the fiercest instincts he has, and he screams at Alistair constantly that first day, begging him through choked sobs, as Alistair stabs, pokes, prods and peels back Sam's skin. He watches his brother die in slow motion, the tears shimmering in Sam's eyes as he screams for Dean incessantly and Dean is screaming back at him constantly, "_Sam hold on, hold on Sammy, come on, little brother, its ok" _which was the stupidest fucking thing to ever say, because it was so far from ok, but Dean is mindless in his agony.

When its finally over, and Alistair approaches Dean as he lay breathless and sobbing on the rack, so bogged down in his grief that he doesn't even register Alistair's presence for a second, Alistair is thinking, _this is what did it, he's mine, now_. Alistair is wrong. When he asks his question of Dean, the answer is shaky and breathless and threaded with doubt, but it's still no.

Alistair leaves him the dark to mourn his brother.

Years are spent with Dean watching Sam die at Alistair's hands every day. It never dulls for Dean the way it did with his father's likeness. He can never convince himself it isn't Sam in that chair, and every day he screams for his brother, his voice becoming harsher and as brittle as paper. Every day he begs Alistair to stop hurting his brother, and Alistair laughs with glee, sure in his methods. _This will be the day he folds, Alistair tells himself. _But it never is. Dean always says no at the end of the day.

Alistair is bored with his methods, so he changes it up a bit and begins torturing Sam's of all ages. He plunges a knife into 5 year old Sam, while salty tears blur Dean's vision and he drowns 11 year old Sam in a vat of acid. The pain Dean is feeling during these times is so strong, so acute, he is wishing for the good old days when it was only him and Alistair and Alistair was peeling his skin back day after day.

Nostalgic for torture. Only Dean Winchester.

Alistair is as smart as he is evil, and he has spent a good deal of time in Dean's head, getting to know every facet of the man in front of him on the rack.

He had thought watching his father die might do the trick, but inside Alistair knows that Dean is stronger than that. He thought he might have gotten Dean with the killing Sam constantly, and he had felt the resolve slipping away a few times, but in the end, Dean had held firm.

Dean was Alistair's Moby Dick.

So, weaving himself through the folds of Dean Winchester's mind, Alistair comes across something that makes him laugh to himself, because it is so perfect, so absolutely i_ngenious_, that he knows it is the thing that will work the most.

Dean has been mentally coaching himself all night long regarding the torture. He is trying to convince his mind that it isn't Sam being killed. He is trying to find his way through the murky anguish that he feels constantly now. He is emotionally shattered to his core, but he lectures himself with things like, _man up bitch, the reason you are here is because Sam is topside, remember, jackass?_ It works a little bit, and he steels himself when Alistair enters the chamber that day.

Something has changed in Alistair, Dean feels it and terror sneaks down his spine as he watches the man wander aimlessly around the room. The demon's eyes narrow as he approaches Dean, an ugly, evil smile twisting his face.

"Gonna try something different today, Dean, " he says in his nasally voice and Dean fights back the horror rising up his throat.

To Dean's shock and amazement, Alistair unlatches him from the rack, and Dean falls to his knees, free for the first time in over 20 years. Dean pants into the floor, blood gushing to his extremities in painful spurts and he wraps his arms around his own stomach to try to hold himself together.

So intent on the relief of being released from the rack, Dean is slow on the realization that this can't mean anything good. Alistair hasn't got a charitable bone in his demonic body.

Dean slowly gets to his feet, taking his place beside the demon obediently, because Dean isn't the smartest guy on the bus, but he does know that he isn't escaping hell by running, so he just stands there.

Alistair waves a hand in the air, and the room morphs into a nameless, faceless motel room, anywhere, USA. Dean has seen a million different versions of this room in his lifetime, so this one doesn't look familiar to him for any special reason.

The faded red carpet is worn by the door and the lamp is on between the two queen sized beds and there's a duffel bag thrown carelessly on one of the beds. It's Sam's bag, Dean thinks to himself dimly.

As if he conjured him out of thin air, Sam comes out of the bathroom and Dean lets his breath out in a great huff because Sam is completely naked.

Tall, broad shouldered, slim waisted, long legged, and tanned skin, the tattoo they both shared sitting on Sam's pec muscle perfectly and Dean finds himself trying to wet his own mouth with his tongue suddenly. Sam is so amazingly beautiful that Dean blinks over and over again, trying to focus.

Oblivious to the spectators in the room, Sam grabs a pillow off the bed that still holds his duffel bag , and props himself up against the wall on the other. He grabs the remote from the nightstand and flicks on the TV, the light from the small box placing a ghosting shadow across Sam's features.

Sam's long fingers reach between his own legs absently and Dean's eyes are drawn to Sam's cock. He swallows air and gulps like a fish and a million fucking sarcastic remarks to say to Alistair, like, _'how gay are you fucker?' _But Dean says nothing, because he is mesmerized by Sam at the moment.

Sam works his own cock slowly, carefully, the stiffening between his legs happening in slow motion. Dean's eyes never leave Sam, and he has no clue that Alistair is watching him alone, forgetting Sam the moment he conjured the vision for Dean.

Sam's brow shows a sheen of sweat and his face is reddening from the exertion of the jerking of his dick and Dean watches with a fascination and hunger that clings to him in sickening gobs of awful.

Sam's lips are moving wordlessly and Dean is trying to pick out what Sam is trying to say, but Sam is so fucking distracting, because he is beautiful and he is jerking off and Dean's own dick in hell is so hard just watching it.

Dean sees how close Sam is to the edge of release and he begins panting himself, lost in the distraction that is his brother. Sam suddenly shouts into the air and comes into his own hand blindly and collapses on the bed a little, shuddering from his orgasm. Dean own dick is straining so hard that he feels like he might come in his pants any second from watching the display. Sam plucks a tissue from the box beside the bed and lazily cleans himself off, distracted, his thoughts far off.

At that moment, it comes crashing into Dean's head. What Sam had shouted at his moment of release. He had shouted Dean's name into the air, before ejaculating into his own hand.

Dean watches dully as Sam pulls boxers and a t-shirt on before getting into bed, and turning off the light in the little motel room. His mind is numb as he watches his brother drift into sleep.

With the scene played out, the motel room disappears from sight and Dean gags on the bile that has risen in his own throat.

Wordlessly, Alistair takes Dean back to the rack and straps him on, and Dean doesn't even fight him, he is so lost in his own thoughts.

He barely hears Alistair ask him the question, but his mind is tuned in enough to say no, and Alistair leaves Dean alone, in the dark.

PLEASE REVIEW


	3. Chapter 3

TIME Chapter 3

I have no claim on the characters that I am writing about.

Its wincest, baby!

Dean lays on the rack that night, his thoughts clamoring so loudly in his own head, that its like being caught in a wind tunnel of his own voice screaming different things, all at the same time. He doesn't know how to put things in order so he just can just fucking _think_ for a minute.

He feels the horror of his own desire for Sam burning up the back of his throat, and if he still ate or drank anything, Dean would vomit all over himself, but in hell, there is no eating, or sleeping, or even shitting. Its nothing but the rack.

Dean now knows that Alistair has seen his mind, because that is the only way he would have thought to show Dean that scene starring Sam, the porn star, jerking off for Dean's own entertainment.

Dean lets the earliest thoughts of Sam inch into his frontal lobe for the first time in what feels like a hundred years. The thoughts that had sickened and horrified and excited Dean all at once, to the point that the only way Dean could keep functioning at all, was to lock them away in his mind, away from the rest of his thoughts.

About 12 years ago, when Sam was 14, Dean had realized that he had abnormal feelings for his brother. He caught himself watching Sam too much, and no amount of spin he tried to place on it made him think that it was only in a "_protective, gotta watch Sammy"_ kind of way. He searched for Sam constantly whenever they were anywhere near each other, and his mind knew it was wrong, but he couldn't stop. He just needed to see him, to look at him, to watch him. Just one more time, just for a few minutes longer.

He was obsessed with Sam, and no amount of self disgust or hatred ever lessened it. He spent hours in his own mind thinking of Sam's cocky smile, his sweet smile, his cheeky smile, every smile really. He thought of Sam's hair, how soft it looked, thought of ways he could touch it innocently, now that his hands itched to know how soft those brown waves really were. He thought of Sam's pink cheeks, his long neck, his dimples. Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam. Its all Dean knew. All he ever wanted to know.

Dean would jerk off in the shower every morning now, needing release almost constantly, his brothers face the only thing that brought him any pleasure. His self loathing thickened over him and settled on his shoulders like an old, comfortable blanket, and Dean could scarcely bring himself to care. He would stroke himself frantically and his mental eye would see Sam's mouth wet and hot and on Dean, or Sam's extra large hand would replace his own in his mind and Dean would strangle back his groans of pleasure as he came.

The first time he physically got a hard on because Sam was too close to him, was the only time Dean ever seriously thought of leaving his Dad and brother behind for good.

They had been watching TV in an old motel outside of Wichita and Sam was 16. Sam was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt, because the motel didn't have air conditioning and it was the middle of August. Dean's obsessive attraction to his own brother was so implanted in his psyche by this time, it seemed almost normal now, and there were times he could even forget about it for a while.

Dean had grabbed the remote and changed the show Sam was watching and Sam had kicked out at him, one big foot hitting Dean's shin and Dean had sneered at him. He clicked again, a challenge clearly implied in his actions and then Sam had been upon him, wrestling for the remote, skinny limbs and huge hands flailing wildly as he tussled with Dean.

It had started out innocent, he was just teasing the kid, and when Sam had jumped on top of him, Dean's only thought had honestly been to best the kid, because the kid was getting bigger and harder to take down by the fucking day. But as he had held the remote just out of arm's length while laughing at Sam's antics, Dean had suddenly been aware of how close Sam was. How he was sitting almost on Dean's lap as he scrambled around trying to get the remote. How Sam's tanned chest which was just starting to have real definition was tantalizingly close to Dean's mouth and how Sam's neck was in stroking distance, and Dean had felt his belly get warm, and then the tell tale twitch in his pants, signaling his desire. Sam had stopped squirming suddenly and had just sat there, in Dean's lap, panting and staring down at Dean with those wide eyes and fuck me mouth and Dean barely managed not to grab the fucking kid and kiss the shit out of him.

He threw Sam off of him, chucked the remote right after him, and had scrambled from the room, almost shouting at Sam, "_I was fucking kidding, you stupid little bitch"_ before locking himself into the bathroom, hearing Sam's strangled sob, and the hoarse, "_I hate you Dean_" hit his back the second before the door closed.

In the bathroom, Dean mentally packed his bags, checked his wallet, and loaded his gun, because no fucking way could he stay knowing that he wanted Sam in that way. It was one thing to jerk off to his image in the shower (yeah Dean's brain had made excuses for that) but it was something else entirely to almost rape the fucking kid. The lust that had risen up in Dean when Sam was on him had been terrifying with its intensity and Dean knew that it was never going away. So he was.

In the end, he had left the bathroom and before he could get to his bag, Sam had looked up at him from the other bed and said, in all his 16 year old innocence. "I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean it, I just wanted to watch that show. I still love you the most Dean."

Dean had felt himself splinter into pieces in that moment, fragments of himself falling onto the mustard yellow carpet in the motel room, because at that moment he was so in love with Sam, that he knew he was never going to leave him. So, he had sat down on the opposite bed, and focused on the TV and said in an almost normal voice. "s'ok Sammy, forget it."

Dean had been shattered that night, and the only thing he could do was pick up the pieces of his own heartbreak and put them away in a pocket of his mind that he wouldn't have to see them. He would always be in love with Sam, his heart already knew it, but he would pack it away so tightly, he would never think to act on it ever again.

Sam's leaving for Stanford had been a whole new kind of torture for Dean, who had thought it so fucking awful that he lusted after his brother, was in love with his brother, but it was nothing compared to the chilling emptiness being away from Sam gave him. He pined for Sam in a way that he knew was almost unhealthy in its intensity and he dreamt of his face almost every night, waking with dried tears on his cheeks almost every morning.

When he and Sam had reunited, he had vowed not to let those memories out ever again, and he pushed himself harder than ever before to not feel for Sam that way. Some days it was easier than others. But no matter what thoughts might sneak into the tired or drunken edges of Dean's psyche, he had a firm grip on them, and knew he could hold himself away from his insane love and attraction and just be Sam's brother.

Dean feels the sickening dread rise up in him now that he understands what Alistair is using against him. Himself. His own secrets. His own mind.

PLEASE REVIEW


	4. Chapter 4

Time – Chapter 4

I have no claim to the Winchester characters, I just use them and abuse them

WINCEST!

Dean hears Alistair enter the chamber and the dread that comes alive at the sound of the demon's approach is so pronounced in Dean, it has become almost a phantom limb, paining him in ways that should be impossible.

It feels like several years have passed since that first time he watched Sam jerk off in the nondescript motel room. Dean finds himself disgusting, revolting in so many different and new ways every day, that when Alistair finally leaves him, Dean starts up his own session of torture on himself. He hates himself so thoroughly that he now believes he deserves hell, he deserves Alistair, he deserves punishment.

After that first time, Alistair arrives every day and lets Dean off the rack, only so he can stand beside him while he shows Dean another scene of Sam. Sam is always in the process of masturbation and he always calls out Dean's name. Dean's traitorous body never fails to be indecently and almost inhumanly aroused by watching Sam, and his own brain is incapable of blocking out the lust he holds for his brother in the shadows of his mind.

The worst moment during this bout of torture is when Dean is shown Sam slamming himself into what looks like a bathroom at a fill up joint. Sam comes into the room quickly and locks the door behind him, his hand resting for a second on the knob, making sure it is engaged. Satisfied, Sam pulls a paper towel out of the dispenser, and shoves it into his front pocket in a crumpled bunch.

Dean watches in horror and baited anticipation as Sam unbuckles his jeans and shoves his own hand into his shorts and begins to rub himself quickly, his head resting against the bathroom door, his cheeks beginning to flush, one hand twisted around the amulet that Dean is just now noticing is missing from his own body. Sam works his cock with efficient determination, twirling the amulet with his free hand and repeats the same words over and over again, in the same rhythm as his hand moving over himself. _"Fuck, Dean, Fuck Dean, fuck, fuck fuck. Dean Dean Dean". _Dean's eyes are filled with tears and his dick is engorged so painfully that it could explode, but won't because hell never gives Dean any release. Sam reaches his climax, pulling the paper towel out at the last second to catch his cum. Sam's head against the door of the bathroom as he sags there, exhausted and sated for the moment. When he finally turns to face himself in the mirror, Dean sees tears streaked down his brothers face, the anguish and pain clearly etched into Sam's every feature. Sam form shimmers and disappears from Dean's immediate sight, but the image is seared into Dean's memory forever.

Dean's guilt and self loathing have reached a new high now, because part of him had waited every day for Alistair to show him Sam, so Dean could feel the desire for his brother build in him once again, perversely pleased that Sam can gain his release only by calling Dean's name But after seeing Sam in so much pain, Dean can't feel anything but the gnawing edges of insanity gripping at him tightly.

And that is the first night he almost says yes to Alistair.

It should have not surprised Dean that after showing him Sam in that form, Alistair would up the stakes. This was hell, after all. Of course the demon would only up the ante every day.

So Alistair comes into the chamber and the deep rooted hate Dean feels for himself is transferred immediately to his despicable torture master. For almost thirty years, Alistair has worked on Dean endlessly, torturing him in body and in mind. Dean has reached the edge of insanity now, and his brain clicks in time to Alistair's steps towards him.

Alistair doesn't let Dean off the rack today. Instead he stands over Dean and smiles his evil smile, stroking absently down Dean's arm while Dean's skin tries to crawl away in revulsion from the demon's touch.

Alistair's voice penetrates the quiet of the chamber. "How long have you wanted to fuck your brother Dean?" The demon's head cocks to one side, awaiting Dean's reply.

Dean breathes through his nose, and musters his sanity together long enough to reply, "Get bent, you sick, twisted fuck."

Alistair laughs a nasty laugh and says, "Well if that ain't the pot calling the twisted fuck black. Which one of us dreams of his own brother in the most perverted way possible?"

Dean rolls his head away from Alistair, his throat thick and his tongue feeling like sour spikes are protruding from it. He can't fight the demon. Alistair knows everything Dean has ever felt. It's the worst kind of invasion, because Alistair had stared not only into Dean's mind, but into his heart and soul, and used every fucking thing against him. Dean is exhausted in a way he didn't know was possible.

Alistair walks slowly to the other side of the table, sizing Dean up carefully, before speaking again.

"Got some special for you today Dean, not really supposed to do this, according to the rules, you know," and he rolls his eyes upward for a second before casting them back at Dean, "But I figure you deserve it."

Fresh panic and dread fill Deans entire being and his brain claws at him in complete terror. He can't even begin to imagine what Alistair has in store for him.

Suddenly, Sam appears on the other side of Dean, not an image in a motel room, but right beside in the rack Dean is strapped to, and he smiles down at Dean. Dean's heart jolts automatically at the sight of him, and he tries to tell himself that it isn't Sam, but the insanity that is now his mind won't believe it.

Dean speaks to Sam in a hoarse, corroded voice. "Help me, Sam."

The Sam who is not Sam smiles again and says in a silky voice, "That's what I am here for, big brother."

Something is wrong, Dean tells himself over and over again, as he watches Not Sam make eye contact with Alistair as he removes his clothing piece by piece.

Dean tries to look away but can't, tries to close his eyes but they aren't working and all he can see is Sam's form in front of him, inches away from where he lay helpless, and dying.

Fully naked, Not Sam stares down into Dean's eyes, and even though Dean knows somewhere in the corner of his mind that it isn't really Sam standing there, the pathetic tortured version of his own soul is not allowing that knowledge to penetrate. So Not Sam turns into Sam in Dean's horrified mind, and leans towards Dean slowly, licking his lips.

The rack is suddenly softer underneath Dean but he is still strapped down and at the mercy of his own version of hell. The room around him has changed into a bedroom, and he realizes dully that he is now strapped to a bed and Sam is looming over him, huge, beautiful and as real as Dean has ever seen him.

Sam's lips brush against Dean and Dean strains up towards him unthinkingly, trying desperately to increase the pressure, his tongue flicking out to swipe at Sam's mouth. Sam chuckles low and says, "Easy cowboy," before bending forward again to capture Dean's mouth, this time with more intensity than before.

Sam's tongue sweeps into Dean's mouth and licks him from the inside out and Dean is completely gone, carried away with passion and blinding desire, driven almost completely mad with his own need. His hands strain to reach Sam, but he is locked down tight, no way to escape, to try to push Sam away, to try to make things right.

Sam kisses him over and over and Dean's head is full of him, swimming in a pool of mindless love and lust. Sam's long fingers trail down Dean's naked chest and Dean convulses automatically, his body jerking towards the light touch.

Maddeningly slow, Sam's fingers finally surround Dean's cock, and Dean's head smacks back against the bed, as his whole body jerks uncontrollably towards Sam. Sam strokes him softly, capturing Dean's mouth in a sinful kiss between strokes and Dean is out of his mind in the best way possible.

Sam's lips leave Dean's and his tongue flicks out, licking his way down Dean's body and all Dean can do is stare and quiver because it feels more like heaven than hell right now, and his mind can't grasp the notion that this is so fucking wrong.

Dean's eyes follow Sam as he kisses and licks his way down Dean's length and when his mouth finally surrounds Dean's cock, Dean sobs with relief and panic and a million other things that he can't name, can't voice, can't pronounce.

Sam begins to suck him and Dean thrusts mindlessly into his brother's mouth, unable to help himself, his self control swept aside by years of torture and abuse.

"_DEAN!_" Johns voice cuts through the fog in Dean's mind and his eyes fly open to see his father beside the bed, looking down at Dean with all the hate, disgust and horror Dean feels for himself.

"I told you to look after your brother boy, not turn him into your fucking prostitute. You make me fucking sick, Dean, look at your brother, look what you have done to him." He gestures down and Dean doesn't want to look but he has to and he sees Sam sliding his tongue up and down Dean's cock, while Dean's hips still jerk towards him.

The cramps of fear, rage, hate, desire, panic, attack Dean at the same time, but he cannot control his body, he can't stop Sam from being on him, he can't stop himself from reacting to the lust driving out of himself, and he begins to cry uncontrollably, seeking his father's eyes, pleading with him to understand that he hasn't the control to stop any of this.

John stares down at Dean with only hatred and speaks in the voice that Dean has always hated the most. "I trusted you son. I trusted you to do what was right for your family and instead, this is what you turned into. And what you turned him into." Again, John jerks his eyes to watch his younger son suck Dean's swollen cock.

And suddenly, Sams mouth is on Dean harder and Dean bucks wildly, fucking his brothers mouth while his father stares down at him in hate and horror and as he cums into his brothers mouth, he cries to his father, "I am so fucking sorry, Dad."

That night, Dean says yes to Alistair.

PLEASE REVIEW


	5. Chapter 5

TIME –Chapter 5

That previous chapter was a bitch to write, I hope it came out ok. I knew what I fundamentally wanted to have play out during the scene, but I am not sure I got it just right. Oh well, On to another chapter.

I don't own any of these characters

Wincest warning.

Dean's last ten years of hell are brightly colored fragments of innocent faces twisted in unbelievable pain and agony. Dean watches them cry wordlessly for release, for loved ones, for anything they can think of, and the horror of his own actions never dulls. He has become a monster, not recognizable to himself any longer, and every victim on his table blurs into the next.

And then he awakens in a pine box, six feet in the ground.

(break)

SAM

Sam feels weird being back in the shotgun seat of the Impala once again, his brother at the wheel, pushing the sleek black car ever faster down a no name highway under a velvety black sky. Sam watches posts and signs and reflectors rush up at them and tries to breathe steadily, in and out.

He steals looks at Dean in the darkness, his eyes memorizing the features of the brother that he had lost and somehow had returned to him. He wants to feel just the happiness that Dean has returned and has somehow been made whole again, but the panic and fear peck at his brain like a woodpecker of doubt has taken up permanent residence in his skull.

He mouth tastes sour and Sam rolls his tongue around, trying to rid it of the flavor of terror that he recognizes. That taste has been in his mouth since Dean had shown him the huge red handprint burned into his shoulder.

After he had seen that handprint, Sam had excused himself to use the bathroom, but once closed into the tiny room, he had whipped out his cell phone and called Ruby, desperate for information about Dean's resurrection.

She had been as puzzled as Sam, and Sam believed her when she said nothing she had ever heard of could have risen Dean from hell. He believed her because he heard the fear in her voice, the idea of unknown forces at work making her voice shaky and unsure.

Sam promised to contact her when they reach wherever they are going, and snaps his phone shut, trying to fight the bubbling emotions struggling to the surface, threatening to break the calm façade he has maintained since he realized it was really Dean, and he was really back.

Dean pulls off the highway at a sign that says, Pontiac, Illinois and finds a motel. Dean hasn't spoken much, and hasn't made eye contact with Sam at all except for when he first showed up at the motel. Sam worries his bottom lip with his teeth, trying not to think of why Dean wasn't talking to him, or looking at him.

They carry their bags into the room and Sam salts the entrances while Dean lays out their weapons carefully on a battered Formica table.

Without another glance in Sam's direction, Dean pulls off his boots, and lies down fully clothed on top of the bed. "Good night, Sammy", he whispers and closes his eyes.

(break)

Sam watches Dean sleep for the longest time, memorizing his face, watching his taut chest rise and fall rhythmically. Dean's slumber isn't peaceful, and he thrashes about on the bed, his head turning side to side, his mouth forming wordless screams and Sam twitches towards him constantly, wanting to soothe and reassure Dean, but somehow knows his touch will only make it worse.

Sam's own breathing hitches every time he watches Dean convulse in his nightmares, because his love for his brother is such that when Dean is in pain, Sam is in pain. Dean is Sam's everything, his all, his reason for being. Dean defines Sam in a way that if you looked up Sam Winchester in the dictionary, all it would say is see Dean Winchester. He has understood that for much longer than anyone would ever guess. Sam begins where Dean ends.

Dean's sleep seems to get a little easier, and he stops moving and twitching and Sam gets up and begins to pace the room. The handprint on Dean's shoulder is a clue to what has happened, but Sam can't wrap his head around what could have caused it. So he paces, his eyes constantly jumping back to Dean to make sure he doesn't disappear, and he worries.

Sam's mind keeps going back over the last four months without Dean. He doesn't want to think about the darkest time of his existence, but his mind won't obey him, and it continuously creeps back into his skull, ringing like a phone until Sam gives up and answers it.

When the light had left Dean's eyes after the hellhound attack, and Lillith had stood in front of Sam, white light blasting from her outstretched hand, all Sam wanted was to die. He waited in anticipation for his own end, knowing that Dean was truly and forever gone, and all Sam could think to himself was_, I am not far behind you, brother. _

The crushing disappointment he felt when it had no effect on him was marred only by his confusion, and when Lillith had smoked out of Ruby's old meat suit, Sam had begun a downward spiral that he was only now beginning to mentally comprehend.

He had staggered Dean's mangled body out of the room and propped him in the front seat of the Impala and Sam had driven like a wild man, tears coursing down his face as he yelled at his brother's corpse. Bobby's headlights swerving behind him, eventually pulling ahead of Sam and cutting him off were the only thing that stopped Sam from driving the car into an oncoming semi, or the nearest tree.

When Bobby had forced Sam to stop, Sam had been wild with anger, pulling himself out of the Impala and running at Bobby, his fists clenched, and he had swung, hitting Bobby on the jaw with a hard right. His next swing went wide and Bobby took the opportunity to grab Sam around the waist and just hold on, and in his gruff country voice, punctured by his own sobs, Bobby had said, "Sam, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." Over and over again, until Sam could no longer bear his own weight and his knees gave out, causing him to sink to the blacktop in a haze of grief and anguish.

Somehow Bobby had talked Sam off the road and into his own car, and directed him to a nearby spot. Bobby wouldn't allow Sam to take the Impala with Dean's body still sitting upright in the shotgun seat, instead he drove with Dean's body, following Sam to the burial spot, his beard soaked with his own grief stricken tears.

Together they had dug the grave and Sam's face was awash with so much anger, stress, grief and torment, that it hurt Bobby's eyes just to look at him. Right there at the site, Bobby had pulled the pine he had placed in his trunk, and his hammer and nails and fashioned Dean's coffin right beside the freshly dug grave.

They had carried Dean's lifeless body and placed it ever so gently in the box, and Sam had not made eye contact with Bobby, because he knew he was going to split apart and all that was holding him together was that he could still see Dean. They had placed Dean in the pine box, and Bobby had stood to the side as he watched Sam sob over his brother, carefully removing the amulet Dean always wore around his neck before placing a salty broken hearted kiss on his dead brother's lips.

Backing away from Dean finally, Sam had looked up and saw Bobby holding a lighter, and he lost it all over again, tackling Bobby to the ground and forcing the lighter from his hand, screaming that Dean would need his body when Sam brought him back from hell.

Bobby had looked scared through to his core at that, but he helped Sam fix the lid over Dean, and had shoveled dirt over the pine box with him.

Sam found two pieces of wood and had banged together a cross, planting it at the head of his brothers grave. He just stood there for hours, staring down at the freshly dug earth, not thinking, not seeing, not feeling. He had just buried his life six feet under, so why was he still standing here? It was beyond the scope of his mind.

When he couldn't stand it any longer, he had walked to Bobby and placed a hand on his shoulder without ever looking at him, and kept walking to the Impala. He got in and started to drive, and didn't look back.

(break)

Sam is shaken from his past grief by the beep of his cell phone, a signal from Ruby that she is outside, waiting for him.

He watches Dean sleep for a few more precious moments before tearing his eyes away. He heads to the door, opening it quietly and prepares to meet his demon mentor.

(break)

Ruby is jittery, nervous, pacing in front of Sam and peppering him with questions about Dean. Sam watches her through dull eyes, unable to give her the answers, or possible reassurance she needs.

Ruby is wearing the meat suit of a beautiful woman, dark haired and exotic looking, and before she had understood who Sam truly was, she had tried to use her new body to entice him under her control. It was pretty laughable in a sick way, because the only person Sam had ever wanted for his own was long gone and he couldn't face life without him, let alone entertain sexual feelings towards another being.

So Ruby had taken a different approach, offering Sam the only thing that he truly wanted, revenge for the death of his brother. Sam had jumped at the opportunity and trained constantly, his psychic abilities becoming sharper and easier to manage.

Dean walking planet earth again didn't fit into Ruby's master plan and she was worried at this development, trying to hide that worry in faux concern for Sam and his brother. She feels her control over Sam slipping with Dean's return and is panicked and scared.

Their meeting is short, because neither has an answer as to why Dean is back, and Sam walks back towards the motel slowly, Ruby watching him until he is out her line of sight. Sam doesn't even notice.


	6. Chapter 6

TIME – Chapter 6

I do not own any of the characters of Supernatural.

Insert Wincest warning here

DEAN

Dean awakens in the motel room and he feels a moment of panic that he is not strapped to the rack any longer, because that is all he knows. His mind trips over the idea that he is no longer in hell, not believing it for a moment. Any second now, the room will melt away and the torture chamber will come back into focus.

A sharp, high pitched whining sound invades Dean's ears and propels him off the bed in a blinding panic, and as the sound worsens, Dean covers his ears, while glass shatters everywhere in the room, raining down on him. He falls to the ground in agony, knowing deep in his soul that Hell has realized he is gone, and has come looking to reclaim him.

The sound disappears abruptly as it began and Dean slowly uncovers his ears, his eyes surveying the damage to the motel room, his heart still thudding unsteadily in his chest. He sees a figure seated at the battered table and knows its Alistair, there to escort him back to hell.

His eyes focus and he sees it isn't Alistair, it's a dark haired blue eyed man, who looks more like an accountant than a demon, but Dean knows appearances can be deceiving.

He gets unsteadily to his feet and with every ounce of courage he can muster, he speaks to the man in a raspy voice. "Who the fuck are you?"

(break)

Castiel has been speaking for what seems like hours, but Dean is no closer to comprehending the man's words. Apparently Castiel is an angel that raised Dean from hell because the Lord has work for Dean. There is more, but Dean can't hear it, because the inside of his brain is roaring at a deafening level.

He has told Castiel over and over again, his voice growing hoarser each time, that Castiel is wrong. Dean is not the man that Castiel or God (and Dean chokes saying the word) thinks he is. He cannot do the Lords work, he is evil, he is wrong, he is sick. Tears roll down his face, pleading with Castiel to understand his words, but the angel only comes close to him, looks him deeply in the eye and with a gentle voice tells Dean that God is never wrong.

With the slightest beating of invisible wings in the air, the strange angel in the cheap suit and trenchcoat is gone, leaving Dean alone in the room.

(break)

SAM

Sam had been seated on the opposite bed from Dean in the mostly demolished motel room for over an hour, listening to Dean tell the story of Castiel's visit. He watches his brother's face closely, seeing it lighten into a manic sheen, his mouth ceaselessly moving over and over again, as he reshapes and retells the story from several different angles.

Without thinking of the consequences, Sam moves to sit beside his brother, his arm going around Dean's shoulders, his fingers patting Dean softly, urging him to calm down. Dean leans against him willingly, needed the support and comfort, but within seconds he has stiffened and he is holding himself away from Sam like he is on fire and Dean is avoiding the flames . He feels Dean's breath hitch and change, the pulse in his neck thudding sporatically, and Dean jumps up, moving away from Sam quickly, his hands pushing at his hair, scratching at his head compulsively.

"No, Sam," he says in a thick voice, his eyes looking everywhere but Sam, his fingers still scratching at his skull intensely.

Sam is afloat on a sea of confusion and he begins to speak, "Dean, I-," but he gets no farther because Dean holds up a hand like a cop directing traffic, giving Sam the universal sign for stop. Sam's mouth opens and closes a few times, words wanting to escape, but obeying Dean's command as always.

Dean's voice is that of a stranger, and he still is not looking Sam in the eye, but he manages to rasp out brokenly, "You can't touch me Sam, I can't take it, man. You don't know what they did to me down there. I am back but I am pretty fucking far from all right. I don't think I will ever be all right again."

As the truth to his own words hits Dean in the face with the same force as a bullet ripping through him, he falls to his knees in front of Sam, sobbing openly.

Sam stares at his broken brother with tears in his own eyes, and wants to reach out to him so badly, the force is pulling him forward on his own accord, but he remembers Dean's words and knows Dean is telling him the truth, so he stops short of Dean and falls to his own knees, and cries in his own tears for his brother.

(break)

CASTIEL

He watches from a corner of the ugly motel room, curious eyes focused on the two men. He has made himself invisible to them now, so he can observe.

Castiel is an angel of the Lord, a soldier in God's army. He is still getting used to his vessel, a devout man who prayed to be a part of the Lords work.

Wearing a person is a new experience for Castiel, but he had no choice when he realized that Dean could not handle his true visage. So with Jimmy's approval, Castiel had taken him over, and come to see Dean.

Castiel is an Angel, so human emotions and feelings are alien to him. He doesn't understand the scene in front of him, and in a whisper, he asks Jimmy for help.

Jimmy watches with him, the two men now on their knees inches apart, not touching, both of them crying and Jimmy is confused as well. He tells Castiel that the men are devastated in some way, their hearts are both breaking, but Jimmy cannot understand the reason for it. He just knows what he is seeing, not what's behind it.

Castiel knows how important to his Father the two men are, and although he has no instincts, Jimmy helps him understand that to be able to help the men, he has to know why they are both dying from heart ache. He must help them or they will no longer be useful to his Father.

Castiel walks to the two men and ghosts a hand over each of their foreheads and in an instant they both are asleep. He carries them separately to the same bed, lying them side by side.

Thoughtfully, he watches them slumber, pondering his next move. He had touched them to give them peace, his vessel knowing what he didn't, that both men needed peace or they would break apart.

Now he waits for a sign from his Father, his own mind blank and unconcerned. He doesn't receive a sign, but he hears Jimmy in his head again, whispering an idea.

Castiel doesn't think it breaks from protocol, so he shrugs his vessels shoulders and places his fingers on the side of Sam Winchester's temple.

(break)

The inside of Sam's mind is fascinating and Castiel finds himself standing in a field watching Dean Winchester shoot at empty bottles. He is no longer in his vessel, now he is Sam.

His angels mind is sharing with Sam and he watches Dean from two different angles. The warrior and the child. The Sam he is currently occupying is 14 years old.

Castiel feels the love that Sam has for Dean and accepts it, because he understands love. He has so much love for his brothers and his Father.

The scene switches and Castiel is still 14 year old Sam, but now he is watching his brother break apart fire wood with an axe, a sheen of sweat covering Deans sculpted figure, and the sun is shining down casting Dean in a perfect light, and in Sam's mind Dean is a greek god. Castiel feels desire for the first time in his existence. Sam loves his brother, and he desires him. Castiel files the thoughts away and continues on.

More scenes play out in Sam's mind, all having to do with Dean. Castiel is seeing a pattern in Sam's existence. His overwhelming love for his brother is complicated by his overwhelming desire for his brother. Castiel is confused by this, but he files it away with everything else. Sam's whole world is wrapped up in Dean, and Castiel feels the intensity in Sam's heart, soul and mind.

Sam Winchester is madly in love with his older brother, and it is a purer love than Castiel has seen between most humans. He is not surprised by the knowledge he gains in Sam's mind. He knows how the man feels for Dean. He just doesn't understand why it is torturing Sam so much. He feels the edges of danger in Sam's psyche and he can feel the demon blood planting roots of evil in Sam's pure mind. It is the only thing Castiel has seen to give him any pause.

Castiel pulls his hand away from Sam's temple and before he can ask Jimmy for help with deciphering his findings, he touches Dean Winchester on the side of the temple.

Dean's mind is much darker than Sam's and instead of seeing Dean's memories of life, Castiel is taken to Dean's memories of Death and Hell. He watches the torture that has been inflicted on Dean over and over again because of his brother, and again, he doesn't understand.

Castiel pulls his hand away from Dean's temple because he cannot bear the pain of watching one of God's children being tortured in any capacity and he looks down at the two sleeping men thoughtfully once again, before leaving the room for real in a flutter of feathery wings.

(break)


	7. Chapter 7

TIME Chapter 7

I do not claim any rights to any characters in this story

Wincest warning.

Dean and Sam awaken at the same time, soft light permeating through the heavy curtains over the stained motel window.

Placed side by side in slumber, they had instinctively reached for one another in the night, and as they slowly regain consciousness, they both come to the realization they are lying together entwined on the bed, closer than lovers.

Sam's hand is pressed against Dean's heart, and Dean's hand is resting lightly on Sam's hip, their foreheads are touching, and their feet are entwined.

In the soft light of the morning, when Sam wakes to find Dean's face and body so close to his own, Sam experiences a buoyant happy feeling that he wasn't sure even existed until this moment. He stares into the endless green depths that are Dean's eyes, and sees all the love he feels inside himself returned in Dean's own heated gaze.

Dean's hand is heavy, and warm, and it scorches Sam's side where it rests on his hipbone. Sam feels pressure in his groin just from that simple touch and he flicks his tongue out to wet his lips, anxious, unsure and heady with his new knowledge of Dean's true feelings.

Dean's eyes follow Sam's tongue like he can't help it and without even realizing it, he is angling his head so he can touch Sam's mouth with his own. Dean's brain is misfiring, so he doesn't really know what he is doing, all he knows is Sam is there, Sam is alive, he is alive, and he loves Sam with every fiber of his own being.

When Dean's lips touch his own, something inside the careful Sam Winchester completely erupts and he instantly pulls Dean closer, fitting his hand around Deans head, opening his mouth to Dean's tongue, colors and flavors and images all bursting inside of him like fireworks in a 4th of July sky. He groans in the back of his own throat and it sounds so foreign to him that he almost erupts in a fit of laughter, but he has not breath to laugh because Dean is kissing him back, over and over and Sam is dying inside with pure spun pleasure.

The hand Dean has rested on Sam's hip only seconds earlier is now clenching at him, drawing him closer and Sam eagerly inches forward to lay flush along Dean while his mouth never leaves his brother. His own hand has snaked underneath Dean's shirt and Sam strokes the expanse of chest and hears Dean growl, pushing himself even closer to Sam.

Clothes are flying as both men fall into a frenzy of desire, and without their mouths every leaving the other, they are both completely naked, their desire for one another plain by the stiffness of their penises, now pushed together like teenage rookies on a first run.

Sam pulls away so he can look into Dean's eye as he takes Dean into his hand for the very first time. Dean's head falls back and he bites his lip and pushes himself into Sam's hand and Sam's heart jumps for joy at the power he has over Dean. Dean's arm tightens around Sam and pulls him even closer rubbing himself into Sam's hand like a wild animal.

Sam strokes Dean frantically, unable to hold himself back, or in check. He watches with unabashed love in his eyes as his brother takes his own cock into his hand and begins to move in time with Sam's own frantic rhythm.

Short seconds later and Sam falls over the cliff, coming mindlessly at Dean's command and Dean shouts Sam's name a second later with his own release.

They lay facing each other breathless and panting, and Sam can't help leaning forward every second and dragging Dean into another kiss, because nothing has ever felt better or more perfect in his life.

Dean's eyes slowly begin to focus again and he stares into the depths of Sam's for long minutes before he shakily says, "I am back in hell, aren't I?"

(break)

DEAN

Sam's words had horrified Dean beyond comprehension.

"No, Dean, this is real, I'M real," he had said and he had pushed himself closer to Dean capturing his lips with his own, in a kiss that branded Dean's soul, marking him for the rest of eternity.

Dean had helplessly returned the kiss, his whole being betraying him like it had so many times before when it came to Sam. He was sick with need and it was minutes before he found the strength to pull his mouth away from Sams.

Dean feels his own eyes fill with tears as he admits to Sam, "I fucked up, little brother. I had another chance, and I fucked it up." Even as he says the words he is clutching Sam's hand to his own heart, because he can't bear to let him go, even though he knows the penalty for his actions.

Sam's face is suddenly dark and unsure the light in his eyes extinguished by the agony that is ghosting up from his toes, streaking a steady path towards his heart.

He whispers, "Dean, what do you mean?"

Dean sobs brokenly and places his forehead against Sam's, wishing he didn't have to speak anymore, because his own voice is its own kind of hell to Dean's ears.

He manages to get the words out, but just barely, drawing strength from Sam like he had any fucking right to any redemption at all.

"Castiel pulled me out of the pit to give me a chance to do the Lord's work. Instead, I pull this, " and he gestures between himself and Sam, "And totally fuck it up for not only me, but for you. God Sam, I am so fucking sorry, man."

Dean starts to cry again in big heaving sobs and a part of his mind wonders if he will ever be able stop crying again. He sees Sam through his tear soaked eyes, taking in his words and weighting them for value.

Sam finally speaks and his voice is weak, but doesn't tremble. "Maybe it doesn't work like that, Dean."

Dean snorts out a hysterical laugh and finds the strength to push himself away from Sam finally, hauling the cheap motel comforter around his own waist, like covering his dick would ever matter again.

Dean strains to keep his voice somewhat even and he says, "Oh yeah Sam, I am sure the man upstairs is really big on incest between brothers. I am sure he brought me back just so I could fuck around with my little brother."

His words hang in the air between them and Dean's head throbs with the sheer force of his own self hatred, so strong now, it is causing his shoulders to sag from the pressure.

Sam's eyes fill with tears at Dean's harsh response, and Dean can only hate himself even more at the heartbreak on Sam's face. Because its clear to Dean now that Sam loves him back, in the same possessive, consuming way, and Sam's love is so blinding, he can't see the undeniable wrong in their circumstances.

Unable to look at Sam for another second, Dean jumps up, fumbles his clothes on as quickly as they were shed and locks himself into the bathroom.

(break)

CASTIEL

Castiel has been in Jimmy for over 24 hours now and Jimmy has proved invaluable helping Castiel interpret the information he witnessed in the Winchester boys' minds.

It takes a while for it to sink into Castiel, why the men feel the way they do, and only when Jimmy speaks the alien words like "incest" and "illegal" and "immoral" and Castiel interprets their meaning, does he finally, FINALLY understand the fundamental root of the problem.

Castiel can think of only one thing that will make this situation turn out the way it is supposed to. In taking this course of action, Castiel is about to disobey a direct order from Heaven. He isn't happy about it, and it goes against his very essence to rebel in any way, but he knows that the end result of his mission far supersedes his methods to get there.

He makes his decision, a slice of unrecognizable fear at the idea he may earn his Father's disapproval by what he is about to do, but he soldiers on.


	8. Chapter 8

TIME Chapter 8

I do not own the Supernatural characters portrayed in this story.

It's Wincest, but you already knew that, didn't you?

Dean hears Sam yell his name in a strangled, frantic voice and he scrambles the bathroom door open quickly, his eyes darting for his gun.

He stops short when he sees Sam sitting on the edge of the bed they hadn't shared the night before, fully clothed, while Castiel the Angel stands before him.

He watches Sam's face and sees the awed light in Sam's eyes at Castiel's presence. He has always known Sam better than he knows himself, so he understands why Sam is so hopeful that an Angel, _an Angel_ of all fucking things, is visiting them.

Dean is more realistic. He knows Castiel is there to take toss him back into the pit and he steels his spine for the fight that could erupt only if Castiel is unwilling to let Sam be. Sam was innocent. Dean was the sick, corrupt brother. Hell could have him, but they couldn't have Sam.

Castiel's eyes flick to Dean and Dean feels real fear in his stomach, knowing his time is near. Castiel's face holds little or no emotion, and he only looks mildly curious at the moment.

Castiels voice is soft and gentle, a perfect echo of Jimmy's and he speaks slowly so the men will be able to follow what he is saying.

"I have been inside your minds, and I have seen your fears. You both are important to my Father, and it seems the only thing I can do is show you why you are so wrong about yourselves."

At that statement, Castiel holds his hands outstretched to both Dean and Sam. Dean stares at it like it's a snake set to strike him, but he sees the gleam in Sam's eye and inwardly sighs because he just knows that Sam is going to take that hand. The second before Sam's hand touches one of Castiel's , Dean grasps the other in a death grip, because Angel or not, no supernatural dick was going anywhere with Dean's baby brother unless Dean was with him.

They are floating on airs for scant milliseconds before Castiel sets them down in an alien room. The room is lit with muted purple shades, and there seems to be no walls to the room, it just goes on forever, the purplish tinge growing deeper the farther it got from their eyes.

Dean and Sam share a look, because this is by far the strangest thing they have ever seen, and they thought they had seen everything. Castiel doesn't notice, he drops both of their hands unceremoniously and steps forward a few paces. He pauses for a moment, before turning to look at both men and speak.

"What I am about to tell you is against the rules of Heaven, but I see a need to show you this in order to set things on their proper course." Both men look confused and Dean also looks terrified, while Sam looks mainly just confused, and slightly curious now.

Castiel continues on. "In Heaven there is no real gender, no real fixed lines. We are all one, one family, one mind, one joint being, moving through our existence, fracturing off only as needed, but otherwise, always as one. This is the reason I find it so uncomfortable to be away from my brothers and my Father for any length of time. "

Sam nods at Castiel, but Dean just stares, so Castiel keeps going. "Human souls are different from us in some ways, because they have been human, so they are infected with human perceptions, judgments and feelings. Until they come back to Heaven they are unable to see what the real," and Castiel struggles to find the right word, "Point of their existence is."

Castiel looks carefully from one man to the other, and when neither says a word, he speaks again.

"The connection between soul mates is infinite. No matter what life they live, they will seek one another during their time on your Earth, whether they realize they are doing it or not. Some matings are stronger than others, producing a powerful couple that cannot be separated by any circumstances. They are drawn to one another in all forms, in all lifetimes."

He pauses for a long period of time while he lets the knowledge of his words seep slowly into the brother's brains. The light hits Sam's eye first and a smile plays across his face, but Dean is right behind him, unable to hide the hopeful gleam in his eye, but still fearful and wary.

"You have to understand the force of one of the special couples is heaven based, so it is not like the human emotions. " Castiel stops and frowns like he knows that is wrong. "I mean to say, that it mirrors human emotions, but they are magnified by the soul mate connection in such a way they cannot be ignored, regardless of what form the soul has taken."

His words are breaking through Sam and Dean and without realizing they are doing it the brothers move to stand shoulder to shoulder, seeking reassurance by the other's proximity.

Castiel turns then and waves his hand in thin air and sheets of clear glass appear on all sides of the brothers and images scatter across them. A clipper ship sits calmly in the oceanic background as a blonde woman, swollen hugely pregnant, walks towards a swarthy faced, handsome man, who embraces her for an endless moment. Another screen shows a gray haired couple on the front porch of an old fashioned wood cabin, holding hands as they rock back in forth in perfect synchronization. Another screen shows two men, clearly soldiers, faces dirty, eyes wild, laying side by side as bombs go off over their heads.

There are more images, but Dean's head is swimming and he closes his eyes against the onslaught of love displayed in each panel. Sam is dazzled, turning in circles, watching scenes play out on every panel, his eyes wide, and his grin taking up his full face.

Castiel speaks again. "These people, they are you, your souls in different lifetimes. You have been to earth more times than most, and every time, under every test, every possible circumstance, you have found your way together. Your passion for one another is one of the deepest ever witnessed from Heaven. It is why you were chosen by my Father."

Sam is nodding and he is looking at Dean with so much love, that its making Dean's eyes wet, but Dean still has to ask, "Why us?"

Castiel waves his hand in the air, the images and the panes of glass disappearing immediately and walks back towards the brothers, his eyes never leaving Dean's.

Castiel's next sentence carries right through to the center of Sam and Dean's very souls. "Because your capacity to love one another is limitless, and my Father knows that means your love and devotion for him is limitless as well."

With that Castiel grabs both men's hands and blinks them out of the strange purple room.

(break)

Epilogue

Castiel sits invisible in the back seat of the Impala as it races down a midnight highway, headed towards a town with demons taking over. He watches the two men in the front seat in silence, wondering if what he showed them made any difference in their minds. He can only pray it did.

Suddenly, he sees Dean lift his hand, only his hand is not empty. It is entwined with his brothers and with a wink and a smile, Dean brings his brothers hand to his lips and kisses it. Sam smiles back at him hugely and leans a little closer to Dean, drawn unthinkingly towards his brother, his soul mate.

Castiel experiences a new feeling. Satisfaction. He knows there are more tests and perils ahead in the lives of the Winchester brothers, and even Castiel doesn't know what the outcome will be. But at least he has given them the peace they needed to continue on with their fight. Together. As it has always been and will always be, in this life, or in any other.

THE END.


End file.
